


the reason

by bigspoonnoya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, is that enough for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 05:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigspoonnoya/pseuds/bigspoonnoya
Summary: It's Kageyama Tobio's first one-night stand. Hinata has no fear.





	the reason

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't had a whole lot of time to write lately, so here's an old one.

Despite craving quiet and solitude, Kageyama agrees to a round of after-dinner drinks with coworkers.

He’ll go with them, he figures, because after such a successful client dinner they’re incorrigible in their celebration. As they leave the restaurant, the account lead announces she’s buying, and a cheer goes up from the group. Kageyama gets swept along to the izakaya, gets a beer shoved into his hand.

He doesn’t say much to his coworkers as the first hour goes by, his glass refreshing itself as if by magic. He’s only been at the company for a few months and, aside from the fact that he’s never been much of a talker, he doesn’t know any of them well enough for anything more than chit-chat. So it’s all, _that was a great presentation last week_ and _what’s going to happen with that one client, you think?_ Work stuff. Boring. He didn’t take this job because he loves accounts, he took it because it pays.

After the third conversation about a serial lunch-stealer in the office, he decides he’ll give it another fifteen minutes and slip out. But not before he uses the men’s room: it’s another forty-five minutes home on the train, and that’s too long after three successive beers.

It’s as he’s coming out of the restroom that he brushes shoulders with the person who’s going to change his night. Kageyama turns, meaning to apologize for near-collision with this stranger—and ends up bumping the stranger’s arm a second time, tipping his beer into his chest.

So there’s Kageyama, standing in the poorly lit hallway of an izakaya, having just dumped alcohol all over this innocent bystander. And he goes, brilliantly, ever stunning in his tact, “Shit… um, sorry.”

The stranger is about his height, with brown hair falling past his ears and acne scars on his cheeks. He turns red, staring down at himself, the soaked state of his t-shirt and jeans. Then he looks up at Kageyama with his mouth open, as if to say, _Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?_

Which is when Kageyama wises up and offers to buy him another beer.

The stranger introduces himself as Yamaguchi as he follows Kageyama back into the main room of the izakaya. Kageyama looks for a server to take the order. Behind him, he hears a voice saying to Yamaguchi, “What _happened_ to you?” And Yamaguchi explains, sounding sheepish, though Kageyama can’t make out his exact words.

When Kageyama turns toward Yamaguchi, intending to apologize yet again, there’s a new face glaring up at him.

At this point he should’ve thought to turn back; this is the soon-to-be-wasted opportunity to do the normal thing, to slap a hundred thousand yen down on their table and get the hell out of there. He should’ve understood from the way his heart dropped the second their eyes met.

His last boyfriend dumped him about a year ago for being “a vault of emotions.” And it’s been fine, it’s been whatever, he spent so much of his childhood being alone that diving back into being single after a couple of years is like hugging an old friend. A friend you never really liked, sure, but maybe you had some good times together too. He’s clung to that lately.

Then there’s this guy. Who is perfect. Yeah, he’s a head shorter than Kageyama and looks ready to kill him, but still—perfect. His hair, tufts of orange, going every direction. His face, _cute_ , round and bright-eyed, like some weird sexy cherub. He looks lithe, fast. A runner’s body. The attraction punches Kageyama in the gut—and he doesn’t get that way, viscerally turned on by strangers.

It’s a new experience. Scary.

Fear of what he’s feeling is the only reason he doesn’t fight back when Yamaguchi’s friend starts tearing into him.

“You owe Tadashi more than just another drink you know! He smells completely like beer now, you should at least give him some money to do laundry—and don’t be such an ass about apologizing, it’s _rude_!”

“I’m being an ass?” Kageyama says, numbly.

“Yeah! Look at your _face_.” The cherub points at him, then realizes the fallacy of what he’s just suggested. “I mean… I know you can’t look at your own face! But you look _mean_.”

Ah. Kageyama has encountered this misunderstanding before. “That’s just my face. I really am sorry.”

The cherub, who’d stood on his tiptoes to berate Kageyama, resumes his actual, even-tinier-than-expected height. “Oh.” He can’t seem to dispel his anger right away, and checks back with Yamaguchi, who shrugs, ever sheepish. “Um—fine, then!”

“How about you too?” says Kageyama, trying not to let his eyes wander below the cherub’s chin.

“Huh?”

“You… also, a beer. I buy one for you. I would…” Clearly looking at the cherub’s face is doing him no favors either, so he pins his gaze on the far wall. “And I’ll pay for laundry. I’ll even pay for a cab home.”

“A cab?” the cherub echoes.

“Yeah. I could do two cabs, even.” _Shit_. Unintentional innuendo, he didn’t—but fuck if he isn’t thinking about it now, the two of them sharing a cab back to his apartment, their hands impatient and wandering in the darkened backseat of the car. Kageyama can’t resist glancing down at the cherub, just to see if he caught it, forgetting how plainly his thoughts and feelings sometimes appear on his own face. And the cherub—though Kageyama wouldn’t figure he’s always sharp when it comes to reading less obvious people—catches his meaning. His eyes widen and his lips part. He might be a tiny bit scandalized.

Even Yamaguchi hears Kageyama’s innuendo, and laughs awkwardly. The cherub looks back at him, pleading for assistance, and he again he shrugs. “I… you know what!” He reaches for his coat. “I just want to get out of these clothes and take a shower.”

“But Tadashi,” the cherub whines, stepping toward him. “We’re supposed to be hanging out.” Kageyama feels like he’s intruding on their conversation, so he pretends to look over at his coworkers. They don’t seem to miss him—they probably wouldn’t even notice if he walked out with a strange man.

Yamaguchi says, in a low voice, “This is the reason you wanted to go out, right?” _Fuck. Shit_. Cherub is—he wants—

“I didn’t wanna abandon you!”

“It’s fine, he’s…” Here Yamaguchi says something Kageyama can’t quite make out over the noise of the bar.

Whatever it was, Cherub responds, almost in a giggle, “I know.” Kageyama absently smooths the lapel of his sport jacket.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Yamaguchi tells his friend, and steps toward the door. He nods to Kageyama. “If you want to pay for laundry, just give Hinata the money, okay?” Kageyama doesn’t really feel guilty that Yamaguchi is leaving—this isn’t his friend, and he’s preoccupied with the cherub—Hinata. Hinata.

“Bye, Tadashi-kun!” Hinata calls, watching him go with a pout. Then he shoots Kageyama a glare. “Well? Where’s my beer?”

 

 

 

 

 

He learns a lot about Hinata in the hour that they chat over beers, excluding any kind of personal information. Their conversation tends more toward sports, and some movies and television. And shit, Hinata _talks_ —he talks fast and he talks loud. He’s stubborn and forward and a little naive. Sometimes he’s annoying, but he’s always hot, at least to Kageyama. His attraction to Hinata can’t be objective, otherwise every man-fancying person in the izakaya would be jockeying for Kageyama’s seat. But it doesn’t matter—he still feels it. He stares at the skin of Hinata’s neck, and thinks about marking it with his teeth. He observes Hinata’s thin fingers rapping the table, and imagines them wrapping around his cock. Hinata keeps talking.

After a while, Hinata’s chatter hits a lull, and Kageyama says nothing to fill it because he’s too busy considering how Hinata might moan while being fucked.

“So?”

Kageyama blinks. The word, pointed and bordering on irritated, pierces Kageyama’s lusty hazy. “So,” he repeats, stupidly.

Hinata frowns at him. He has a kiddish kind of frown that scrunches his entire face. “When are you going to invite me back to your place?”

 _He was waiting for me to say it_. Kageyama’s face warms—his inexperience is showing. “Right now.”

Hinata’s frown melts into a smile, and he titters watching Kageyama fumble with his phone to call a cab. They pay the tab and pass Kageyama’s work group on the way out; by now not one of Kageyama’s colleagues is sober enough to notice his departure or choice of parting companion.

It rains lightly while they wait for the car. They don’t say much, though Kageyama can feel Hinata peeking sideways at him, still smiling. Cute as ever. He’s only known Hinata a couple of hours but he feels confident in that _as ever_. Hinata’s not just having a good hair day. He’s always like this, soft, made up of small fine expressions bound together. The pout of his lips and the curl of his lashes.

And he’s coming home with Kageyama.

The cab arrives just in time to rescue Kageyama, who might’ve exploded counting the seconds until they can touch. They scoot into the back seat and Kageyama gives the driver the address. It should only be twenty minutes back to the apartment, much faster by car than it would be on the train, though they might be the longest twenty minutes of his life.

Then Hinata shuts the cab’s partition, so the driver can’t hear them, and climbs into Kageyama’s lap.

Kageyama has been nursing the beginnings of an erection for a while now, and this just—pushes him over the edge. Hinata’s lips cling to his neck, sucking, biting, relentless. His hands roam Kageyama’s torso and, feeling his abdomen, Hinata lets out a low groan that goes straight to Kageyama’s dick. Those abs were earned over months at gym, and in that moment he regrets none of it.

All the rationality that usually governs his actions dissolves into want. He forgets the poor driver, forgets his crippling fear of public affection, forgets his slight disgust at the thought of what’s happened in the back of this cab. The cigarette-smoked leather seats creak as Hinata grinds down on him. Kageyama slips his hands up the back of Hinata’s shirt.

“Why not go to a gay bar if you wanted to hook up?” he murmurs into Hinata’s hair. He breaks the silence of pants and friction because his impulse control sucks, and because he likes Hinata’s fire. Liked how his heart pounded when Hinata yelled at him before.

“Shut up, _baka_!” The insult sends a funny pang of desire to Kageyama’s belly. Hinata sits back on his lap, glaring, but very much intent on undoing Kageyama’s belt buckle. “How long before we get to your place?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Hinata nods shortly. He keeps on at the belt, and then fumbles with the top button of Kageyama’s trousers. He’s not the most graceful but he moves quickly, and with determination. Kageyama watches him work with lips parted, trying not to drool. “I don’t like gay bars,” Hinata says, combative. “Whenever I go to one, there’s always ten old creepy men trying to buy me drinks.”

“You need to find a better gay bar.” Kageyama reaches out and threads his fingers through Hinata’s impossibly soft hair.

“Are you going to take me to one?”

“No.” Kageyama pulls Hinata toward him. “I’m not sharing.” And he kisses Hinata deeply. As handsy as they’ve been, this is the first time their lips have met, the first time Kageyama has licked into Hinata’s mouth and made him sigh. Their open mouths part and meet again and part, Hinata nipping at Kageyama’s lower lip and laughing, though Kageyama is too dumfounded to laugh along.

Hinata pulls away and, in a rare show of shyness, glances toward the driver. Then he looks back to Kageyama, and Kageyama’s crotch. Thinking. Weighing his options.

“What?” says Kageyama.

“You’re clean, right?”

“Clean?”

“Yeah… you don’t do this a lot, right?” _It’s obvious?_ “So you don’t have any diseases or anything?”

Kageyama shakes his head. His throat goes dry.

Hinata’s contemplative frown breaks into a grin.

He slides into the seat beside Kageyama, and then leanslow over Kageyama’s lap. “When I go to a regular izakaya, people don’t know why I’m there,” he says, too conversational as he tugs down the elastic of Kageyama’s boxers to free his half-hard cock. “And then I can go home with whoever I want.”

Holy shit.

Kageyama tosses a panicked glance upfront, then shuts his eyes for a moment before he decides he’s going to watch. Hinata’s lips are already around him and his brain can’t form an argument as to why this shouldn’t be happening.

So there he is getting blown by a stranger in the back of cab and trying not to make a sound, not because the driver can hear him but because he can barely admit to himself that this is real, that Hinata is real. Hinata, whose mouth is otherworldly, like warm velvet. Hinata, who giggles as he lathes his tongue along the underside of Kageyama’s cock, having _fun_. Again he’s laughing and Kageyama is just—breathless.

Hinata moves sloppily and wetly and earnestly, which is somehow how hotter than if he’d been composed and neat about it. But no, there he is letting Kageyama’s cock rub his cheek when the car hits a bump in the road, leaving a wet streak of saliva and a droplet of precum on his cheek. There he is hollowing his cheeks with the entirety of Kageyama’s length in his mouth, drool pooling on his bottom lip, insaitable. And all the while he giggles and hums under his breath like he’s having the fucking time of his life, his blush visible even in the cab’s almost-darkness.

Kageyama brushes a few strands of hair from Hinata’s eyes and wonders how someone can be so innocent and filthy in the same moment. He didn’t think that existed, except maybe in a deep-seated fantasy of his, as though Hinata had crawled out of his own id. That, or he just got super fucking lucky. Like, lotto-winning lucky.

Hinata sucks him off until his erection overpowers every decent thought in his mind. Minutes have passed, though he couldn’t say how many, precisely. He keeps gasping into the palm of his hand, so maybe the driver will think he’s overtired and yawning, or something. He’s going to come soon, very soon, and he’d be an ass not to warn Hinata, but when he opens his mouth only manages half a murmured sentence, “I’m going…”

He doesn’t need to say more. Hinata gasps excitedly around his cock, which feels weird but not bad weird, and then slides off him with a wet pop. He takes Kageyama in hand and pumps him rapidly, knowing just what to do, looking focused with his teeth on his lip and his eyes glued to the expression on Kageyama’s face as he climaxes.

It’s some combination of the slightly dangerous setting and how long it’s been and Hinata himself that makes the orgasm as good as it is. He feels like he’s stepped into a wet dream. A perfectly hot and willing stranger and the backseat of a cab, so anonymous but—passionate. At least he thinks it’s passion, the thing coursing through him as he comes, white hot but relieving, too, quenching a thirst. His hips twitch and his head falls back, lips parted; he’s either blacked out or closed his eyes, not sure which, and he barely registers the flutter against his skin when Hinata kisses his jaw. How could he, when Hinata keeps going, pumping him until he’s empty, until he’s given everything he has to the palm of Hinata’s hand.

“Awesome,” says a small voice. Weakened, spent, Kageyama pries his eyes open sees Hinata—his hair extra mussed from Kageyama grabbing at it, his cheeks flush—marveling at the cum on his fingers as if it were something more than a bodily fluid. “There’s so much.” He sounds delighted with himself.

“Who the fuck _are_ you?”

The question falls out of Kageyama’s mouth. He really means _what_ are you, because he’s having trouble believing that this isn’t a prank or an amazing trip. But it’s a better question than, _is someone paying you to be this nasty?_ So there’s that. Could’ve been worse.

Hinata shoots him one of those angry pouts. “I’m Hinata Shouyou.” _Shouyou…_

“You’re dirty.”

“Pfft,” says Hinata, wiping his hand on Kageyama’s trouser leg. “You hit on me first!”

“I asked you to take a cab, not suck my dick in the back of one.”

Hinata punches his arm, and not gently. Now he’s full-on glaring. “If you’re not dirty, then what am I looking forward to? Should I just get out here?”

Speaking of which, they’re pulling up to Kageyama’s place—he quickly tucks his cock back into his pants. “No. I’ve got you covered.”

“ _Covered?_ I don’t want to be covered, I want to be—”

Kageyama knocks on the partition and motions for the driver to pull over.

He pays twice the fare; the driver doesn’t blink, so either he’s got a damn good poker face, or he’s seen worse. Kageyama leads Hinata through the lobby of his apartment building to the elevator.

Hinata. Shouyou.

“This is kind of fancy,” Hinata says, looking around at the marble tiling and gilded mirrors. “What kind of job do you do to make rent here?”

“That’s a personal question.”

“Am I not allowed to ask personal questions?”

Kageyama blinks. The elevator doors open and they step inside. “I… are you?”

Hinata gives him a squint, and starts to laugh. “You’ve really never done this before!”

“Shut up,” Kageyama growls, punching the button for his floor. He doesn’t know where he got that idea about not sharing personal information—maybe out of a movie or a manga.

Hinata leans against the elevator wall, his hands tangled behind his back, hips jutting forward. “What made you change your mind?”

“What?”

“I mean, you’ve never gone home with someone from a bar. What made you decide to do it?” Hinata’s question lies somewhere between coy and genuine. He looks Kageyama up and down. “What’re you, like twenty-eight? What’ve you been doing for all that time?”

Kageyama hesitates. Hard to answer a question you don’t know the answer to, and he’s sure he’ll spend the next weeks and months pondering what led him to this point. It wasn’t that he felt especially desperate to get off, or needed company, it was just… Hinata. Kageyama had never gone home with a stranger because he’d never met a stranger he wanted to go home with. Until tonight.

But that doesn’t mean he gets it. What made Hinata special, what made him want this, what kicked him from mild interest into dramatic lust.

The elevator doors open on his floor, and he steps out without looking back to see if Hinata is following. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Wow, you seem older! It must be the suit.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama sighs. “Must be.”

 

 

 

 

 

Kageyama unlocks the door to his apartment and it swings open, revealing the plain greyscale interior he’d left that morning. Hinata traipses right inside and starts pulling off his shoes. He doesn’t seem to notice the unwashed dishes in the sink or the clothing piled on the armchair. Kageyama would’ve straightened, if he knew he’d be having company.

Hinata starts to ask, “Where’s your—”

“The bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

Hinata scampers off, and Kageyama shuts and locks the door. He slides off his shoes, hangs up his sport coat. Hinata’s beat-to-death hightops look odd mingled with Kageyama’s assortment of dress shoes and running sneakers.

He does the dishes while he waits, then wanders into the bedroom, where he clears dirty clothes from the floor. The bathroom door clicks open faintly as Hinata exits and skips down the hall, where he passes the open bedroom, then doubles back. “You’re in here,” he says, puzzled. Kageyama nods. “Why?”

Kageyama looks at the bed, in lieu of a verbal answer.

“You wanna do it in the bed?”

That one really stumps him. Hinata seems so… surprised?

“I’ve done it in a bed like, a million times,” Hinata whines. _A million times._ “Listen, come here—” And he moves back into the main room, motioning for Kageyama to follow. Which Kageyama does, because he keeps losing their arguments, and because Hinata’s outrageous sexual instincts have been good to him so far this evening. He makes sure to grab lube and a condom from the bedside table as he goes.

Hinata is waiting for him in the kitchen, rocking on his feet, smiling wide. The kitchen, of all places, full of hard surfaces and sharp edges. Not the ideal place for making love, or—whatever it is they’re doing. Kageyama enters slowly, daunted by the setting. He leaves the condom and lube on the counter, but struggles to close the gap between the two of them.

“Here?” he asks.

“Yeah!” Hinata slides his shirt over his head, and Kageyama’s jaw goes slack. “I want you to fuck me over the sink.”

“Why the sink?”

Hinata pulls a face as he undoes the button on his jeans too casually. “I don’t know, that’s just—it’s where I want it.”

“Over the sink.”

“Yeah, right here.” Hinata kicks off the jeans, the sight of a bulge in his underwear sending blood to Kageyama’s face and cock. “‘Cause then it’s like, you found me here, and you just—had to have me right away.” He meets Kageyama’s eye, and his mouth twists into a smile. “Kind of like it actually happened, right?”

Kageyama opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out aside from a croak. Hinata only laughs at that, then slides off his underwear, so he’s standing naked and erect by Kageyama’s kitchen sink.

His body is just as good as Kageyama imagined it. Lean, and freckled in unexpected places. Kageyama runs a hand over his face, trying to pull himself together, back into a semblance of a person who can act on his desires. A part of him remains unconvinced this is real and thinks he ought to start jerking off, rather than touch Hinata and risk him vanishing into thin air.

Hinata folds his arms across his narrow chest. “I know you’re weird, but I really wanna do it, so…”

“Yeah.” Kageyama takes a tentative step toward him, and another. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, but you just shouldn’t stare at a naked person and not say anything, it makes me feel—you know.”

That’s maybe the stupidest thing Kageyama has ever heard. “No,” he says, inching closer to Hinata, whose gaze slips downward. “You’re hot. I want you.”

Hinata blushes pink and, for the second time tonight, he glimpses shyness behind the buoyant exterior. It makes him seem younger, and Kageyama can imagine he used to be like this a lot when he was a kid. Now it only bubbles to the surface on occasion, but it feels like an especially deep, modest part of him, and that’s endearing.

Kageyama lifts Hinata’s chin and kisses him lightly. The kiss clashes with the mood of the night—with the aggression and immediacy and magnetism. He doesn’t even use his tongue. It’s a kiss that might pass between two true lovers, and when Kageyama pulls away, he sees soft surprise on Hinata’s face.

Kageyama clears his throat. Now, surely, he’s broken a rule. He doesn’t know what to say to fix the mood, so he takes Hinata by the shoulders and turns him to face the sink.

Hinata titters while Kageyama deals with the slippery jar of lube. “Ha! I win.”

“How do you _win_ —I’m about to fuck your brains out.”

“Yeah, over the sink! Like I wanted.”

The right answer is that Hinata won when Kageyama set eyes on him, and everything since has been a victory lap.

His fingers now slick with lube, Kageyama tugs Hinata’s ass toward him, and slides his hand down to find his entrance. “I fingered myself some in the bathroom,” Hinata tells him, an image that goes right to Kageyama’s dick. “I’m already ready.”

“Just let me…” Kageyama needs to feel it, that readiness, just for a second—he pushes his middle finger into Hinata, slowly, savoring his softness, how he’s not so open yet, thinking of how he’ll be once Kageyama is done with him. Hinata lets out a small sigh and glances over his shoulder, watching Kageyama with half-lidded eyes. In response to that look, Kageyama reaches around to pump Hinata’s cock a couple of times, and listens to him sigh again, louder.

Kageyama adds a second finger. He knows when he’s found Hinata’s prostate by the way his pink lips part and his eyes roll back, and the desperate whimper that pops his mouth open when Kageyama rubs the spot. Kageyama is fully hard again just from watching him—if he hadn’t come earlier, he’d be worried about lasting long enough to actually fuck Hinata to completion.

“I said I was ready,” Hinata manages, his breathing uneven.

“I know. I wanted to.” Kageyama slides his fingers out, making Hinata shudder.

It’s tough to hurry through getting his belt off and his dick out with slick fingers, so when Hinata spies him struggling he turns around to help. Together, they manage to free his dick and slide on the condom. Hinata repositions himself over the sink,round little ass out. Kageyama starts lining himself up, but pauses at a sudden demand from Hinata: “Take off your shirt.”

He glances down. Aside from his cock being out, he’s as clothed as he was when he came in, though his trousers are starting to slip down his legs. Annoyed by the delay, Kageyama shoves down his pants and boxers, kicking them away, and hurries through unbuttoning his shirt. At least Hinata swoons satisfyingly at the sight of him naked.

The difference in their heights makes the positioning a little awkward, and Hinata has to put his knee up on the counter so his ass is high enough for Kageyama’s hips, but Hinata is flexible and determined to make the sink situation work. After two fumbling minutes, Kageyama’s impatience leaves him sloppy and rough as he brings Hinata in line with his throbbing cock. But Hinata doesn’t want it _slow_ —you don’t ask to be fucked over a sink if you’re looking for slow, and Hinata nods when Kageyama thrusts the first few inches into him, not exactly gentle.

He pushes himself in all the way. Hinata gasps, his eyes screwing shut. One of his hands grips the faucet so hard his knuckles go white.

Kageyama pulls back and thrusts in again, this time in a single hard motion. Hinata’s gasp is smaller and dwindles into a sigh. “You like that?” Kageyama murmurs, leaning toward Hinata’s ear. He gets a nod.

That’s permission to let loose, and Kageyama does. He uses one hand to steady himself with the counter and another to hold Hinata’s hips in place so he can push into him again and again, no pauses or slips. The last time Kageyama did this was ages ago, and it was most definitely not over a sink, so it takes him a few minutes to get his bearings and figure out a pace to suit them both, though more Hinata than himself. But Hinata is surprisingly patient about it, all deep breaths and smiles while Kageyama finds his way.

Hinata feels good. Incredible, really. Tight and hot and soft around the cock. Kageyama didn’t expect anything less, and yet shouldn’t he be thinking— _this_ feels so good, because it’s the fucking he’s enjoying, not Hinata specifically. That wouldn’t make any sense, because in theory anyone with an asshole would do for this sensation. Still, the thing he wants to say, the thing he’d whisper if he had more courage than he does, is: _you feel good_. It’s _you_. Not _this_.

As Kageyama’s thrusts grow harder and steadier, Hinata starts to react beyond the deep breaths and smiles. He starts to whimper—the first time Kageyama catches one of these little whines, his heart sinks, because it almost sounds like a noise of pain— _ah, ah, ah_ whispered under Hinata’s breath, while his face is pinched into an unreadably overstimulated expression. Thinking Hinata would surely speak up if he were uncomfortable, Kageyama keeps going, until the noises crescendo to the point where he can’t ignore them anymore.

He slows his next thrust. “Are you okay?”

Hinata’s eyes fly open like he’s just had cold water dumped on him. “ _Baka_ —” He twists around to slap at Kageyama. “Don’t stop!”

“Why are you whimpering?”

“Because I’m gonna come soon—keep _going_.”

“Shit! Sorry.” Kageyama shakes his head, attempting to slip back into the right frame of mind. He dips forward and kisses the back of Hinata’s neck in apology. “I thought I was hurting you.”

There’s a beat of silence from Hinata. His eyes stay glued to the sink. “My knee kind of hurts. But I don’t care.” Then he says, quieter than ever, “Please keep going.”

This might be the first time Hinata has uttered the word _please_ tonight. Kageyama is happy to oblige him and let the moment of strange tenderness between pass undiscussed. What would he say, anyway? Hook-ups aren’t supposed to be weighed down. He’s not looking to change the formula.

Kageyama resumes the pace from before, the one escalated Hinata’s whimpers, and it’s not two minutes before Hinata is doing it again. That _ah, ah, ah_ , mingling with the wet slapping sound of Kageyama’s hips colliding with Hinata’s ass again and again. Sweat beads on Kageyama’s forehead from the exertion, and a sheen glints on Hinata’s back as well. At this angle Kageyama can see how he flushes the entire length of his body, pale freckled skin blotched red. It’s memorable—everything about this is memorable—and a good fucking thing, too, since Kageyama guesses he’ll be thinking about it for the rest of his life.

One of Hinata’s hands slips off the counter; he starts to touch himself, at first stroking in time with Kageyama’s thrusts, and then speeding up as he nears the edge. His whimpers build into a steady whine, and then he is gasping, _ohh, ohh,_ the volume building every second. Kageyama wraps an arm around his torso to hold him steady, intent on fucking him through it, on making him come as hard as possible. With his chest pressed against Hinata’s back, they’re nearly cheek to cheek, and he can look down to watch Hinata bursting. He feels the tremor down Hinata’s spine when the orgasm hits. He comes on the tile, the cabinet, his own hand.

Kageyama pauses thrusting when Hinata goes slack against his arm, but then Hinata is shaking his head. His hair tickles Kageyama’s neck. “Keep going. I like it…”

Kageyama would probably argue with that if he weren’t as hard as he is. But his obsession with Hinata’s experience lead him to neglect his own, and now his cock aches the longer he leaves it unstimulated. His hips push back into Hinata like they’ve got a mind of their own. Thinking it’ll help him come faster, he tries to shove away thoughts of the orgasm he just watched Hinata have, instead focusing on the heat and pressure moving along his dick.

But Hinata sneaks back in. He’s stubborn, even the version of him that’s invaded Kageyama’s thoughts. The real Hinata, flesh and blood, peeks at him through long lashes, a smile playing at his lips. And looking at him—their eyes meeting momentarily—really _does_ it for Kageyama, more than letting his mind go blank. In fact, as he loses the fight for the tactile, and impressions of Hinata swarm him, Kageyama moves faster, fucks harder. Listening to Hinata talk at the izakaya, the sideways glances as they’d waited for the cab, his stupid shy look at the driver before he initiated the most risqué thing that’s happened to Kageyama in his _life_.

Hook-ups are oxymorons, for Kageyama. It’s not supposed to be about a specific person, but the reason he’s never had one before is—it’s always about a specific person, for him. He wouldn’t be here—in this position—if it weren’t. He overfocuses, it’s his specialty.

So that’s the realization he’s having as the pressure in his groin mounts and he finally comes: _I like him_. The thought races away on the orgasm’s wave, preventing him from stuffing it into the recesses of his mind. His thrusts stutter and he hears himself make some kind of guttural noise, a grunt-moan, punctuated by Hinata’s giggle. He drags Hinata’s hips toward him and folds forward, curling around Hinata’s smaller torso. It’s as good as the orgasm he had earlier, if not better, but over the din of happy heat coursing through him is that echoing thought. _I like him. I like him._

He rests his forehead against Hinata’s shoulder as he settles down, the feeling returning to his extremities. He pulls out unceremoniously, head swimming, and removes the condom. When he turns back from throwing it out, Hinata is on the floor, stretching for his toes.

“Don’t wanna be sore tomorrow,” he says cheerfully.

“Your ass is going to be sore.”

He hops to his feet with a wince. “Maybe. But I kind of like that, it means you did a good job.”

Kageyama doesn’t know what to do with the smile Hinata gives him. It’s too cute, and nice. He feels like shit, suddenly—trailing the realization that he likes Hinata is the realization that Hinata came here to get fucked, and now that he’s had his, he won’t stick around. It’s a one-night stand. And this is why Kageyama Tobio doesn’t do one-night stands.

 

 

 

 

Kageyama goes into the bedroom without saying anything and finds himself fresh underwear, a t-shirt and joggers. He half-hopes that when he returns to the kitchen, Hinata will have gone.

Instead, Hinata has his face in Kageyama’s fridge. He’s put on his underwear but nothing else—his shirt is still draped over the rice cooker. “Do you have any good leftovers? Is it too late to get something delivered?”

Kageyama’s stomach grumbles on cue. Annoying that he’s got to feed Hinata too, on top of everything, but they’re both hungry. “There’s a late-night place that delivers pizza.”

Hinata’s face lights up at the word _pizza_ , and it’s decided. He watches eagerly as Kageyama puts the order in on his phone, then announces, “I’m gonna have one of your beers while I wait, okay?” He phrases it as a question but it’s not, because the beer is already open and in his hand.

Kageyama watches in horror as he settles down on the couch and hums happily into his beer. “Why are you just standing there staring at me?” he asks after a minute. “Come sit.” Kageyama reluctantly obeys. He’s not in the mood for beer.

He doesn’t know what Hinata expects from this situation. The two of them, sitting on the couch, waiting for a pizza to arrive. Should they flip on the television like they do sometimes in doctor’s offices?

“Why are you so nervous?”

He eyes Hinata out the corner of his eye. He’d been determined not to look directly at him—too much like staring into the sun. “I’m not nervous.”

“You _seem_ nervous. Or just like, off. We already did it so you don’t have a reason to be weird. Unless you really are just weird all the time…” Hinata’s nose wrinkles thoughtfully.

Kageyama leans forward and kisses him.

Fucking impulse control. It comes and goes.

This kiss is another one of those nothing kisses, it passes in a second, gently, and when he moves away Hinata is surprised. Less surprised than the last time, but still a little bewildered.

“When you kiss me,” he says, as thought he didn’t know what to make of this fact, “it feels real.”

“That’s because it is,” Kageyama grunts. Perhaps grunting will disguise his fragile attempt at honesty.

Hinata’s nose wrinkles again. He takes a couple sips of beer, tilts his head back toward the ceiling, and finally looks at Kageyama again. “What’s your name?”

“My name,” Kageyama echoes.

“Yeah! You never told me your name.”

“You…”

“I never ask because sometimes guys want you to go home with them and then leave right after.” Hinata shrugs. “I just figured you were like that.”

Kageyama shakes his head, and considers eating his fist. “I’m not. I don’t…” All this—stupid—and he’d never even told Hinata his name. “It’s Kageyama,” he says, angry at himself more than anyone. Hinata continues looking at him, expectant. “Tobio.”

“Kageyama Tobio!” Hinata swigs his beer and smacks his lips, as though the name tasted good on his lips. “I like the sound of that.”


End file.
